


The Start of Forever

by SolitaryEngel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Face-Sitting, Femslash, First Time, Getting Together, Lipstick, Out of Character, Pining, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 16:50:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20392969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolitaryEngel/pseuds/SolitaryEngel
Summary: Harri had been staring at Professor Riddle for what felt like forever.She had no clue the woman might be staring right back.





	The Start of Forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wolf_of_Lilacs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_of_Lilacs/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [Wolf_of_Lilacs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_of_Lilacs/pseuds/Wolf_of_Lilacs) in the [TomarryFlashExchanges](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TomarryFlashExchanges) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> Femslash. Professor Tom and student Harry. Anything for this. Pining, smut, whatever you're up for.

* * *

* * *

Harri stared at herself _ hard _ in the mirror.

“Today’s the day,” she told herself.

“The one we’ve been waiting for,” Ginny continued next to her, grinning through her mouth full of toothpaste.

“The big one!” Harri agreed, letting her voice rise in false triumph as she met Ginny’s eyes in the other girl’s mirror. Ginny snorted, then gasped as the toothpaste dribbled down her chin, leaning over the sink quickly before it got on her Quidditch uniform.

“Is that the speech you’re giving today?” she asked once she’d rinsed her mouth out.

Harri gathered her hair in her hands, testing out different ponytail heights in the mirror. “Probably not,” she admitted, biting her lip and watching it escape from her teeth. Was that sultry enough? What if she squinted a little at the same time…?

“Me-yow,” Ginny commented, watching Harri’s performance with raised eyebrows. “Who are you practicing _ that _ expression for? Also: don’t. You're beautiful without it. It’s not my brother, right? I can’t handle any details if it’s for my brother.”

“Shut up Ginny you know I’m not interested in your fucking _ brother_,” Harri griped, dropping her hands and letting her unbound hair fall around her shoulders in defeat.

Ginny sighed and came closer, stealing the red and gold hair tie from Harri’s wrist. “A girl can dream, can’t she?” she asked rhetorically. “When we were younger we used to daydream about you marrying one of them and being sisters for real.”

“Do you think she’ll see me?” Harri whispered as Ginny collected her hair, twisting the whole of it into a rope and until it curled on itself and then twirled it around a finger until it made a bun shape.

“You’re the Seeker. Of course she’ll see you,” Ginny responded, voice low and calming. “She _ always _ sees you.”

“Could have fooled me,” Harri muttered.

“Come on,” Ginny ordered, pulling her away from the sink. “It’s time for breakfast. You need to go and make sure your team is eating a balanced meal.”

“Yeah.”

Harri threw one last glance at the mirror before being tugged fully out of the room. It was a discouraging glance; she looked sad and her perpetually messy hair was throwing out loops and lumps already where Ginny had previously combed it smooth. She sighed and let Ginny drag her to the dorm for their brooms.

Even if Professor Riddle _ did _ look… there wasn’t much to see.

The Potter girl was staring again. It wasn’t as annoying as it was when she was younger. Perhaps around the same time as she grew those adorable little breasts, Tomila began to stare back.

Discreetly… of course.

For Potter’s viewing pleasure, Tomila lifted her goblet to her mouth, drinking down a healthy gulp of Gillywater — let the girl see the delicate line of Tomila’s throat, if she wished — then as the goblet lowered she licked her lips slowly, then drug a finger along the edge as if to neaten the edge of her lipstick.

She knew the girl liked the bright color. Everyone did. It’s why Tomila chose it in the first place. Across the distance between them the faraway sound of a seventh-year Gryffindor spluttering and choking on her food travelled, and Tomila resisted the urge to grin.

Instead, she picked out another bite of eggs, her movements precise but graceful as she rotated her wrist and delicately bit the morsel off the end, lips pursing around the tines just so.

A sigh, then, from the Slytherin table, and Tomila set her fork down with an irritated clank, glaring at the intruder to her performance. The boy — a fifth year — blushed and ducked his head, embarrassed.

“Really Tomila, is that _ so _ necessary?” Aurora inquired lightly. “That poor boy… his heart shattered… believing himself all alone in the world…”

Tomila snorted. “Tell me, Aurora does Mr. Flint still send you those _ shameless _ love letters?” she asked, her tone just as light as the Astronomy professor’s. As Aurora struggled for a response, she stood, patting her red lips with her napkin and casting a quick eye over to her admirer who had recovered from her near drowning, cheeks fetchingly red with embarrassment. “See you in the Teacher’s Box, my ‘ _ chocolate wet dream_,’” Tomila murmured behind Aurora’s ear as she left.

Her fellow Slytherin alumnus groaned, unable to clap back now that her sparring partner was quickly retreating. 

Tomila smiled, pleased to note Potter seemed just as dismayed as Aurora at her leaving the Hall.

“I _ said_, ARE YOU READY?” Harri bellowed.

She felt foolish, yelling at them all in the face like she was, but the team was all in, screaming and hollering right back, eyes sparkling in shared humor.

“Alright!” she cried, holding her broom high. “Mount up!”

Cheers along with the rustling and thumps of six other Gryffindors throwing their legs over their brooms sounded behind her as she turned and followed suit. Outside of the changing rooms, Orla Quirke’s Sonorous-enhanced voice spoke excitedly.

“GOOD MORNING HOGWARTS!”

The low hum of the hundreds of students in the stadium became a roar with the greeting.

“Get ready,” Harri warned.

“We got this,” Ginny retorted behind her, a grin in her voice.

“Hell yeah, we got this!” Ron crowed.

"ARE YOU READY FOR THE FINAL GAME OF THE YEAR?" Quirke asked, pumping up the crowd. Harris and the Gryffindors behind her joined the shouts, keeping their spirits raised.

"WELL THAT'S GREAT BECAUSE HERE COMES… _ GRYFFINDOR!" _

With a flick of Harri's wand and a nonverbal _ 'aberto,' _ the double doors before them opened up and they kicked off, zooming out into the early morning sunshine. Harri swung high above the pitch, judging the state of the grass after that week's rain and scouring the crowd for alabaster skin and fire-bright lips.

As soon as their eyes connected the nagging feeling of unease faded, and Harri could help the smile that erupted, nor the excitement that came from knowing her crush was _ there_, just there and she was looking right back at her.

Tomila hadn’t been much of a fan of Quidditch until Harri joined the Gryffindor team at eleven. She’d been such a tiny little thing, with greater than the average amount of scars littering her face and hands and yet even _ still _ that little pipsqueak’s efforts alone won Gryffindor every game fought against Slytherin.

She’d be angrier, if the little cutie hadn’t reminded her so much of herself.

The girl excelled in Tomila’s Defence classes too. So much power in such a tiny, abused package. They were practically twins… and Tomila was not too proud to admit that the person she loved most in all the world was herself.

“Tomila, you’re staring,” Aurora murmured next to her, volume low and tone warning.

“Yes,” she agreed, and smiled, causing the deep green eyes looking back into hers to blink and jerk away, the surrounding skin darkening with another blush. Messing with earnest Gryffindors was always a satisfying pursuit, and the little _ Harri _ most of all.

“So you’ve decided to stop teasing the chit, then?” Aurora asked, voice absent of the judgement Tomila knew she harbored within. No matter. She wouldn't tell.

The circling Potter glanced at her again, and Tomila smirked. “Oh, yes,” she murmured.

Harri was exhausted. According to the last announcement the game had been going on for four hours, but it already felt like hours had passed since Quirke had tiredly announced that. At the third hour Harri had ordered the team to play more defensively to conserve energy, so Ginny, Demelza, and Dean were moving slowly across the field, playing keep-away from the Ravenclaw Chasers and only every once in a while scoring a goal.

Ron was alternating between looking as worn as Harri felt and furious, and she knew he must be attempting to mentally pump himself back up between stretches of boredom. Their Beaters, Peakes and Coote, were both still having a grand old time, much to the annoyance of the Ravenclaw Beaters who weren’t given a moment’s rest. Harri shook her head wryly but left them alone. They were all so tired that having overactive Beaters on their side was a very good thing. They were all at risk of being hit, with how fatigued they were.

Harri circled still, her spirits buoyed by that fact that although the stands were three-quarters emptier than when they’d begun, Professor Riddle was still in attendance, sharing an elaborate tea set up with Professors Sinastra, Flitwick, and McGonagall. It made Harri smile, to see such an elegant woman with her finger-waved hair brushing over her shoulders, long, manicured fingers holding onto a tiny flower-shaped sandwich, laughing and holding court with the other teachers, none of whom could dare to match her shine.

“Head in the game, Harri!” Ginny called, floating lazily past. 

“Ginny!” Harri snapped, but it didn’t seem like anyone else was energetic enough to notice the illicit direction of Harri’s gaze. While she was furtively checking the other players’ faces was when she caught sight of a tiny, mobile flash of gold.

All fatigue vanished in an instant. It was the fourth time she’d chased after that damn thing today and by Merlin, this time she was going to catch the bloody thing and _ end _ this game.

“Oh, I think the Potter girl’s seen the Snitch,” Aurora noted idly.

“Again?” Tomila laughed, as Minerva and Filius snapped to attention.

“Get it!” the Transfiguration teacher breathed, her severe face locking onto the seventh-year’s trajectory with a fierce determination.

“Chase after her, Li!” Filius squeaked, just as excited.

Tomila didn’t blame them for their stolen attention. After all, wasn’t her own breath taken by the thrill of Potter’s sleek form bent low over her broomstick? Those thickly muscled legs pushing for greater speed and that _ delectably _ raised derriere? Her strong sense of caution warned that she needed to look away so no one saw the thoughts that must be written clear as day across her features… but wasn’t everyone else’s attention in the same place?

Salazar, what Tomila wouldn’t do to worship at that altar. And as short, bitten fingernails scraped against that fluttering golden ball and their owner immediately turned to make sure Tomila had noticed her victory… well. She already had the girl, didn’t she? There was nothing keeping her back from making that a physical truth as well as an metaphorical one.

Why, if she played her cards right, she might have the Potter girl writhing on her fingers in less than an hour.

Her grin widened, and even amidst the tangle of teammates screaming in her ears Potter blushed at the sight of it.

“They’re saying it’s the biggest point disparity in two hundred years of House games!” Hermione squealed, jumping excitedly within the sweaty circle of Ron’s arms.

“We’ve got the Cup!” Dean cried.

“Indeed, you have, Mr. Thomas. Great job to all of you,” Professor McGonagall congratulated at the edge of their clustered gathering.

“Thanks, Professor,” they called back, Harri included.

“Due to the length of the game, lunch will still be served for the next hour and a half, so shower quickly.”

“Yes, Professor!”

“Well, did you hear her? Let’s go!” Ron demanded, leading the way back towards the changing rooms.

“We’ll see you in the Great Hall,” Hermione told Harri and Ginny, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend who was eagerly jogging away from her.

“It’s not you,” Harri told her, unable to stop grinning. “It’s the food.”

“It always is,” she sighed dramatically.

Ginny giggled, tugging on Harri’s arm. “Let’s go before the others eat all the good stuff, then.”

“What a game,” Harri moaned once they’d entered the girls’ side together.

“That’s the longest I’ve ever seen, let alone played in,” agreed Demelza. “I like that flower in your hair, by the way. I didn’t notice it earlier.”

“Flower?” Ginny asked, frowning. Harri matched her expression, hands searching around her messy fallen-out hair and the scrap of bun that still survived until her fingers felt something soft and fluffy suck into its side.

“What kind is it?” she asked, before taking it out and studying it herself.

“I’ve never seen that flower before,” Ginny said, coming close to examine the cluster of small red blooms in the center, and the long, daisy-like petals spaced far apart around the outside. All together, it looked like a vibrant red snowflake.

“Me neither,” Demelza agreed. “How odd. You didn’t put it there?”

“No,” Harri said, worried.

“It was in your bun,” Ginny said, chewing on her lip. “Someone could have magicked it there.”

“You know…” Demelza began, tapping her lip, “there are spells which can turn a note into a flower if anyone but the intended recipient is looking at it.”

Ginny gasped. “Quick Demy! Turn around!”

She grabbed the other girl and they both turned around, heads bowed together and giggling, but the flower remained a flower.

“Sorry, guys, it’s still a flower,” Harri said, feeling awkward about their turned backs.

“What if she has to be the only one in the entire _ room _?” Ginny asked Demelza next.

“Really,” Harri began to protest, “I don’t think it’s —”

“We should try it,” Demelza interrupted, determined. “Don’t you want to see if whoever gave you that flower left you a way to see who it was?” she asked Harri directly.

Harri paused. There was only one person she wanted to be receiving _ flowers _ from, and it wasn’t anyone who would actually be sending them.

“In any case,” Ginny said next, her smile soft and commiserating as if she’d been able to hear Harri’s thoughts out loud. “Don’t you want to know who to avoid, if it’s not someone you like?”

Harri cracked a smile at that. “Yeah, that’s true,” she agreed.

“Let’s go!” Demelza squealed, grabbing Ginny’s hand and skipping to the door. Harri shook her head, but looked at the strange flower anyway, not expecting much.

But as the door closed, the outer petals furled inwards, the whole thing spinning in her palm until a torn scrap of parchment with the word ‘Lunch at mine?’ written neatly in its center laid in its place.

Harri knew that handwriting.

The note spun again as the door opened, and when the girls burst in, piling over each other in their eagerness to see what had happened, it had already turned back into a flower.

“Well, was it a note?” Demelza demanded.

“No,” Harri lied, meeting Ginny’s brown gaze and giving a little nod when the girl frowned, hearing the oddity in her tone.

“Oh, well,” Demelza sighed, disappointed. “Maybe they’re shy.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Harri replied distractedly, holding the flower to her chest with a lot more care than before.

Potter was usually the most excited about shepherd’s pie, Tomila knew, but that wasn’t a very elegant food so she would have to be forgiven for not supplying it on their first date — if the girl was left alone long enough to find the invitation. She’d assumed the girl would find it once the shower curtains closed around her. 

(And wasn’t that a wonderful thought? Potter, naked in the shower… warm water slicking her breasts and belly as a red flower falls into her waiting hand… and then perhaps a blush would suffuse those creamy tan cheeks as she gasped Tomila’s name… perhaps in her excitement that hand would drift lower...)

In any case, the roast hare that Tomila instructed the kitchens to make had been a favorite during her time in school, back when the Muggle’s foolish warring had made lots of domesticated foods scarce and expensive to obtain. Following that theme, she’d also requested spiced turnips and carrots for the side, and thinking of things that were out of reach in those days she requested fresh lemonade to drink and a chocolate cake for pudding.

Somewhere between charming her note into a sprig of coriander — the flower that means ‘burning lust’ — and arriving back in her rooms she’d become far more… _ anxious _ than she’d anticipated.

“It makes sense,” she muttered, self-soothing. “You’ve watched the girl watching _ you _ for years. Finally doing something about it after all this time… it’s daunting. Fine.”

A soft knock sounded on the door to her office, and she took a deep breath. “Smooth, calm,” she coached herself. “Poised. I can do this.”

A wave and poke with her wand later and the fresh white tapers she’d set out flared to gentle life. 

With a start, she realized the significance behind the unconscious candle choice. _ White. Tapers. _ Oh, Salazar. This wasn’t mere lust at _ all_.

When Professor Riddle opened the door, Harri’s breath caught. She’d had plenty of time to study the paper and question her sanity, but there was no way the woman in front of her wasn’t expecting company. Her teaching robes had been replaced with black trousers and a variegated grey sweater and the _ neckline _ on that thing —

Harri swallowed, raising her gaze with difficulty from rounded flesh to Professor Riddle’s smiling eyes.

“Hello, Miss Potter,” she greeted, her voice throaty and welcoming. She stepped back, and Harri entered her office, admiring not for the first time the understated elegance of the furnishings.

“I —” Harri cleared her throat when her first attempt to speak came out strangled and high. “Er, hello, Professor. I found this… and I thought it might be from you?”

Harri passed the scrap of paper over, noting with a hard swallow that it hadn’t changed back into a flower, even with the professor right there. Professor Riddle smiled when she saw it and tapped her wand onto it, transforming it into a cluster of purple lilacs and violets affixed to a hairpin.

“It was,” the woman confirmed. “May I?”

The professor gestured to Harri’s hair, which was still damp and unbound after her shower.

“Y-yes,” she responded, bending her head slightly to make her scalp more accessible.

Professor Riddle laughed, a friendly noise much different than the hard-edged one she sporadically let out during class. “Come inside, Harri,” she offered instead of placing the flowers in her hair.

The hint of entreaty in her tone as Professor Riddle said her nickname prevented Harri from feeling like she’d done something foolish.

It was very possible she’d follow such a voice anywhere.

Tomila’s heart was still pounding from her recent burst of understanding as Potter walked past her guiding arm into her rooms.

“Wow,” the girl remarked, crossing her arms in an unhidden show of nerves. “Your place is beautiful.”

That warmed her far more than it should, considering she already _ knew _ her decorating was stunning.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a chance and scooping up Potter’s forearm in her hand and tugging the girl gently over towards the seating area where a lovely Victorian couch she’d procured from an antique shop down Vertic Alley awaited them. “Take a seat here, and I’ll fix your hair.”

“O-okay,” Potter stuttered, obeying even though every line of her body betrayed how skittish she was feeling.

Silently summoning a comb, Tomila set to work, starting from the ends of the younger woman’s gloriously thick hair and working her way up, cursing the modest school robes which covered all that young, soft skin from Tomila’s curious fingers. Still, as the comb slid from hairline to nape, the body underneath shivered agreeably at the sensation.

“Cold?” Tomila inquired, already grinning because she knew that wasn’t the cause.

“No, I’m fine, thank you Professor.”

“Call me Tomila,” she urged, trying to keep her voice light and nonthreatening.

“Alright… Tomila.”

Now _ she _ was the one with the shivers.

Harri hands were still shaking with the idea that _ she had been invited to call Professor Riddle by her first name _ when soft fingers dove into the hair on the top of her head, parting a good portion of it into sections and then braiding it, gathering more hair into the braid as those capable fingers traveled a tingling journey from the top of her hairline down around her ear and then under the fall of the rest of her hair.

“There,” Tomila said finally, producing the flowers and pinning them into the braid above her temple. “You look beautiful, Harri.”

Ensnared by those gorgeous brown eyes, Harri could barely _ breathe, _ let alone thank the woman, but she had to try.

“Thank you,” she managed, feeling her face heat at the knowing crinkling those eyes gave in response.

“Are you hungry?” she was asked next.

“Very,” Harri admitted, before wondering if she was supposed to pretend otherwise — to seem more delicate or something similar she’d never cared about before.

But her admission seemed to make Tomila happy. “Good,” the woman said, offering both her hands to help Harri up. “I took the liberty of ordering a few of my favorites from when I was growing up, I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” Harri murmured, looking at their linked hands. “Only… Tomila, why exactly did you invite me here today?”

Tomila stopped abruptly, and Harri skidded to a halt so they didn’t collide.

“Good instincts,” the woman commended, “but just this once I’d preferred if you hadn’t stopped so quickly.”

“S-sorry,” Harri stuttered in return, watching avidly as those perfect features bent ever closer.

Harri looked as though she might be close to passing out as Tomila pressed their lips together. It was amusing, but that superficial amusement faded instantly as Harri's mouth began to tentatively move under hers. Their hands clenched around each other as the power of the kiss hit them both.

Logically, Tomila knew there was no significant difference between Harri's mouth and any of the numerous lover's she'd come to know during her 50 years of immortal adulthood. But logic had very little to do with the pulses of _ want _ and mortal _ need _ that this seventeen years old girl's mouth was drawing up and out of her with every brush of its wind-chapped surface against her own.

"Does that answer your question?" she asked, her voice hoarse as her eyes locked into Harri's red-smeared mouth.

"Kinda," Harri answered faintly, her own gaze staring with fascination at Tomila's mouth, which must look quite similar.

Tomila sighed. How can she put it so that a teenager might understand?

"Is it enough for me to say that I like you and I know you like me and I'd like to test just how far our _ liking _ for each other goes?"

The sweet blush over Harri's cheeks flamed bright red in response to that suggestive question, and her green eyes darted over to the bedroom door which Tomila had strategically left wide open. "You mean…?"

"Let's just start with lunch, alright?" Tomila suggested, stepping backwards once more to the small table set with two chairs and those ridiculous white tapers.

"Alright," Harri agreed, licking her unevenly painted lips distractedly.

_ 'Good. Now just to survive an entire meal with her looking at me like _ that_,' _ Tomila thought.

Hearing personal stories about Tomila's childhood was incredible. From the classes where they were taught how to provide their own food since supply was scarce to close calls with Muggle soldiers during the Summers, the woman had lived in a completely different world that Harri's simple neglect situation couldn't come close to comparing to.

Not that Tomila have any indication that she thought that was the case, drawing hateful secrets out of Harri with her body leaning earnestly over the table and her fingers continually stroking comfort onto Harri's palm. 

Merlin. Harri hoped the talking portion of the meal would be over soon; she'd really like to add some more smears to that pretty mouth.

Tomila grinned at the diversion of her attention, clean white teeth flashing in the candlelight.

"I have chocolate cake for dessert…" Tomila said, eyes shifting over to the door inside which Harri'd spied the corner of a bed, earlier.

"Can we still have it after?" Harri asked, wincing afterwards at the plainly desperate way it has come out.

But Tomila's grin only widened.

"Absolutely."

Harri's mouth tasted even better when chased with the skin of her throat, Tomila found. Every sweet sound pouring from her lips as Tomila pinned her against the doorframe and felt out the reality of a body she’d been contemplating for — Salazar, over a year, by that point.

“I want you,” she whispered into Harri’s ear, painting it red.

“Do — do we use the bed?” Harri gasped, arching her petite chest into Tomila’s questing hand. She wanted to cover the skin there red, too.

“We can,” Tomila responded, drawing up the skirt of Harri’s robe as she mouthed another lipstick ‘o’ into the side of the teen’s neck. “Or I can pleasure you right here, and now. What do you think?”

Harri’s head cracked against the wooden doorframe as Tomila’s hand quested inwards, slipping inside the strangely wide leg of the girl’s cut-off shorts easily and pressing over the curve of her mound.

“Oh, God,” the girl uttered, sinking down harder onto Tomila’s massaging fingers even as her head lolled and gaze rested pleadingly on the bed beyond.

“Alright, honey,” Tomila sighed, relenting. “But _ this _ awful thing needs to come off,” she insisted, dropping the hem of Harri’s robe with a frustrated pout.

“And these,” Harri added, her hands tentatively reaching out to undo the decorative belt at Tomila’s waist.

“Everything,” Tomila agreed.

Harri’s hands were shaking again as she pulled her robes off over her head and dropped them to the floor. Years ago Ginny helped her cut the legs off Dudley’s jeans and the neverending bottom to his shirt, but there was no disguising just how grossly worn and oversized both items of clothing were even with their improvements.

Tomila (lacking trousers and looking absolutely _ gorgeous _ without them) stepped up to her then, hands running up the bottom of her cropped shirt, across rib bones and the sports bra Ginny had given her two Christmases ago when she’d finally _ needed _ one and then further, taking the shirt up over her head and casting it aside.

“These things,” Tomila muttered as she undid the belt around her waist, pulling the cut end through the buckle and then popping the button on the shorts with harsh movements, “they don’t define you. These rags don’t make you Harriet Potter.”

“Yeah?” Harri replied, raising a hand to Tomila’s painstakingly styled hair, then her jaw which was smeared with color. “What about yours? Do those not define you?”

Tomila grinned. “That’s different,” she said, chin rising defiantly. “I chose these for myself.”

“Off,” Harri murmured, feeling her cheeks heat again.

A smirk spread across Tomila’s beautiful face, and she raised her arms above her head. “Help?” she asked with pure, false innocence.

"What do you want with me, huh?" Harri muttered as she complied. "You're bloody perfect and I —"

"Are the only person other than Dumbledore to defeat me in a duel," Tomila interrupted quickly.

Harri froze, Tomila’s sweater tangled around her wrists above their heads.

“Didn’t know that, did you?” Tomila challenged, leaning forward, her arms still raised. “You’re beautiful, did you know that? And so fucking quick, too. And sexy as all hell —”

“Shut up,” Harri ground out, ripping the sweater to the side and pouncing on the taller woman, who had pounced right back at the same time, shoving Harri back until they both fell, tangled onto the mattress.

Harri tangled her bare legs around Tomila’s, gasping when a slim thigh pressed up between her legs and then moved against her with a rocking movement of the woman’s hips.

“Ah,” she exhaled, stunned, as the motion was repeated.

“Feels good?” Tomila purred against her lips.

“Yes,” Harri breathed.

“I want to taste you,” Tomila whispered. “May I?”

“Oh, Merlin, yes,” Harri answered quickly, squirming.

“This needs to go,” Tomila declared, hauling up on the elastic of Harri’s bra.

“They’re not…” Harri demurred, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Adorable? Perfect? Sensitive?” Tomila badgered, pulling Harri’s wrists out of the way.

“I… don’t know…”

“Oh, I’ve noticed that,” Tomila murmured, dropping her head back to Harri’s neck and nipping. “Don’t worry, I’m keeping it in mind.”

“Oh — okay,” Harri stuttered, her body shifting to envelop Tomila’s once more. With a grin, Tomila set out to paint the body beneath hers red.

“You’re amazing,” she whispered, kissing a red line from the girl’s neck down to the slight swell of her breast. “I adore this part of you,” she murmured, flicking her tongue out teasingly over the tip of one nipple before sucking the whole thing into her mouth.

“Oh, _ God_,” Harri cried, her hips twitching.

Tomila chuckled. “You feel it here, don’t you?” she asked, one hand sliding down underneath the waistband of Harri’s plain knickers to play with the warm, moist flesh within.

“Yes,” Harri whispered.

“Good,” Tomila purred, dipping her mouth back down as her fingers dove further down, then in.

“Shit,” Harri hissed, legs spreading wider. “Oh, Merlin, please don’t take points.”

Tomila laughed outright, resting her forehead on Harri’s sternum. “Not for this,” she agreed. “Are you ready for more?”

“Yes, please,” Harri said, so politely that Tomila chuckled again, sliding further down the bed until she was finally where she’d been dreaming of being all night, staring at Harri’s rosy folds eagerly.

“So fucking perfect,” she murmured, spreading Harri open with two thumbs, her other fingers fanning out on either side, framing her view. She licked her lips, swallowing the sudden influx of saliva as one thumb sliding inwards to dip into Harri’s gleaming center, eliciting a shocked gasp from the girl.

Not wanting to wait another second to savor more sweet reactions out of her new lover, Tomila bent her head forward and placed a chaste kiss right over Harri’s hooded clit.

“Oh, that — that there —” Harri whimpered as Tomila’s tongue sent a flickering wave of pleasure through her core.

Tomila gave a smug, “Mmhmm,” in response, hands roaming to squeeze her ass or reach up to tweak a nipple, each action designed to drive Harri insane.

And it was working. Harri spewed groans and needy encouragements indiscriminately, her sense of shame long and far away from this melting bed of pleasure. She was barely aware of her own name anymore, let alone the worries of the forbidden thing they were starting there, between them.

When a long finger slid into her she felt the echoes of the sensation reverberate all the way from her toes to her teeth.

“Yes, yes, that, _ more_,” Harri demanded, undulating against that steadily giving mouth and hand. Never in the darkest nights, with the strongest Silencing Charms had she ever felt anything a tenth as strong as this. As all-encompassing and dizzying as this, right here, with the subject of her sweetest dreams kissing right — right — _ right — _

Harri’s body seized as the pleasure Tomila was pulling out of her body suddenly crested, and a long guttural moan pushed its way up from her chest and out of her slack mouth.

When she collapsed, Tomilla kicked off her own panties and crawled up the bed on her knees, straddling her face.

“I won’t take long,” she assured Harri, eyes wild. “_Please_.”

Harri had no idea what she was doing, but instead of dwelling on that fact, she rose up on her elbows, diving into Tomilla’s folds eagerly, hoping that her enthusiasm would make up for her complete lack of experience.

“That’s it, honey, thank you so much,” Tomila praised as Harri speared her depths with her tongue, plunging in as far as it would go and then yanking it back only to repeat the process. Tomila’s taste was tangy on her lips, but light and delicious enough that Harri almost didn’t want to stop sampling it in order to move up to her clit.

A hand grabbing onto her hair and physically redirecting her attention made her chuckle.

“I got it,” she laughed, before laying her tongue flat over the neglected nub and lavishing it with attention.

“Good, honey, good,” Tomila praised, her thighs shaking on either side of Harri’s head with every swipe of her tongue. Experimentally, Harri tried to flicker her tongue the way Tomila had done so successfully, and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath above her. “There!” Tomila gasped. “Keep doing that —”

Harri gripped onto the legs bracketing her head, pushing her face ever closer over Tomila’s flesh as she followed her instruction exactly. Just as she said, Tomila came quickly after that, her empty center pulsing under Harri’s chin, making her deeply regret not feeling Tomila there, so she could have felt the woman squeezing around her fingers.

Trembling, Tomila collapsed backwards, lifting her liquid legs up and away from potentially crushing Harri. The girl herself sat up and draped her upper body over Tomila’s chest, humming out a contented sigh.

“How did I do?” Harri asked as Tomila threw a lazy arm around her neck.

“Perfect,” she replied, smirking as the afterglow still buzzed in her veins. “Absolutely perfect.”

Suddenly, the heavy head on her chest began giggling. “I’m covered in lipstick,” Harri noted, shifting and stretching in order to see all the places Tomila had marked.

“I liked putting it on you,” Tomila informed her with a smile. “You look good in my red.”

“Will I get to wear it again?” the girl asked, voice painfully casual.

“As often as you like, after you graduate,” Tomila offered, feeling unpleasantly vulnerable.

Harri’s head lifted, her face uncertain. “And before then? That’s still two weeks away.”

“Before then, we need to be careful,” Tomila said seriously, lifting a hand to comb through the tangled hair laying across her belly. “We may not get a chance to have a proper date like today until we’re not at risk anymore.”

“I’m glad you didn’t wait any longer,” Harri said, her tone conveying just how deeply heartfelt the statement was. “I had no clue you even knew I was… more than just a student. A girl. I was running out of time and hope to show you.”

“Mm,” Tomila intoned, deciding not to share just yet that she hadn’t even realized the depth of her own feelings until five seconds before letting the girl in. Who knew, they still might crash and burn between now and the girl’s graduation, but while Harri was warm and willing beside her (or beneath her… or on top of her…) Tomila felt no qualms about seeing just how far this strange little thing would go.

Knowing that even forever starts with a single step, Tomila began cajoling her young lover to the shower to clean up the evidence of their crime.

Harri couldn’t believe her luck. Warm and cozy in the shower with the woman she’d been in love with for _ years_, exchanging soft kisses and mapping out every inch of skin… it was a dream come true. She would have some lies to tell when she got back to Gryffindor Tower, with only one red-headed girl to squeal over the truth with, but she’d tell a thousand lies gladly to protect this baby fire sizzling between them.

For Tomila, she’d even give up death, if given the chance.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't feel like I nailed a female Tom, here. I think I got too hung up on the idea of Tomila using her feminintity for leverage and didn't develop her too much deeper then that and it shows. 
> 
> By the way, she definitely seduced Nicholas Flamel into giving up the recipe for the Elixir of Life and then murdered him and his wife, taking the Stone for herself. It's not stated anywhere, but... that's what's up.
> 
> Still though... writing this fic has been a real experience, I'll tell you what. I should tell you that it is sponsored heavily by "SLEEPOVER" by Hayley Kiyoko... without that video giving me the tingles this fic may never have survived creation 😂


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